


The Lady and the Pedlar

by MediumSizedEvil



Series: Every Time [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, And full of medium-sized evil, F/M, Fluff, In a world that's medieval
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 19:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediumSizedEvil/pseuds/MediumSizedEvil
Summary: A fair lady is held captive by a dragon. That is, until a humble pedlar comes to call.Suddenly he noticed a wooden jetty, and a small bronze bell hanging from a willow branch. The dense fog obscured his view, but he thought he could make out a tower in the middle of the lake. After a short deliberation he rang the bell. The sound was clear and sweet, echoing across the water.





	The Lady and the Pedlar

Once upon a time a lone traveller carrying a heavy pack was making his way along a dusty road. He was a pedlar, hawking his goods from village to village to make a meagre living. He stopped at every dwelling, no matter how modest, for a chance to sell his wares. His limbs were weary from walking all day with his heavy load and he longed for a spot of rest. But night was falling, and he would have to find shelter quite soon or risk spending the night out in the open. Unfortunately that happened sometimes if all doors were shut in his face by distrustful or hostile folk.

As the road progressed it slowly bent around the shore of a vast lake. A heavy mist was descending, creeping through the trees and over the water like a ghostly apparition. Suddenly he noticed a wooden jetty, and a small bronze bell hanging from a willow branch. The dense fog obscured his view, but he thought he could make out a tower in the middle of the lake. After a short deliberation he rang the bell. The sound was clear and sweet, echoing across the water. He looked at the surface and peered into the distance, but nothing happened. He sat down on the jetty and removed his pack with a sigh. He was sorely tempted to have a sweetmeat but he could not afford to indulge himself so soon again after last month's.

Then a small boat appeared out of the mist, and slowly steered towards him. A young lady was rowing, and as she looked over her shoulder towards the jetty he was instantly struck by her beauty. He unconsciously held his breath as she came closer and finally moored her little boat at his feet.

“Well?” she asked, regarding him questioningly. “You called?”

He startled, and quickly took off his hat. “Good evening, my Lady,” he said courteously. “I am a humble pedlar. Would you care to look at my wares? I have ribbons and laces and sashes in many colours, as well as the finest perfumes from faraway lands as might please you.”

She frowned. “I have no need for such trifles, I thank you kindly.” She grabbed her oars. “Fare thee well, good stranger.”

“Pray, my Lady!” he exclaimed. 

She looked up at him.

“Perhaps I might beg of you some shelter for the night?”

She looked doubtful, and closely searched his visage. He tried to look respectable and hoped she would regard him without prejudice. “I'll be no trouble at all, on my word. All I ask is a roof over my head. The hedgerows are so cold and prickly.”

“Very well then,” she decided. “Get in the boat.”

He carefully hauled his heavy pack into the wobbly little vessel. He offered to row but she firmly declined, so he sat down on the little wooden bench opposite her while she steered the boat back onto the lake.

“The life jacket is under your seat,” she informed him.

He was both reassured and worried by this, as he was unable to swim. Luckily they made it safely through the fog to the other side, where they docked in a small natural harbour. As they made their way up to the castle fiery flames suddenly shot down from the battlements.

“What was that?” the pedlar exclaimed, jumping aside.

“Oh that? That is the dragon.”

“A dragon?”

“Yes, he is holding me captive here. I cannot leave this island. As soon as I set foot on the other shore he swoops down and whisks me back again.”

“What if he is asleep?”

“Then he wakes instantly. It's not a normal dragon, it's a magical dragon.”

The fearsome dragon, of moderate height and build, peered down at them from atop the battlements.

“Pray tell, my Lady, how can this evil curse be lifted?”

“Simple, by killing the dragon.”

“So how do we do that?”

She stared at him. “You would attempt it? Many brave knights and gallant squires have tried. He ate them all.”

The humble pedlar puffed up his chest. “I am a match for any knight. My pack weighs more than a full suit of mail, and I am more chivalrous for not riding any horse.”

She looked unconvinced by his credentials.

“Now tell me more about this dragon,” he urged her. “What does he do all day? What are his hobbies?”

“He just drinks beer. I toil from dawn till dusk each day brewing beer for him, or he gets cranky. Then he sets my hair on fire. In fact, I should go and feed him now.”

He followed her down to the castle cellars, where a number of barrels were stacked against the wall. She drilled a hole through the top of one and then attached it to a pulley. He watched as she hauled up the barrel through a hole in the ceiling, and further up, all the way to the battlements, he supposed. The dragon roared loudly in approval.

“And what are those?” he said, pointing to a set of barrels in the corner, covered in cobwebs.

“Oh those are failed brews, I've been meaning to throw them out but I keep putting it off.”

“So they would be extra fermented by now?”

“Yes, I guess so,” she said. “About double the strength.”

“You should give him that,” the pedlar suggested. “He might like it. Double fermented beers are all the rage in Town right now.”

She nodded and started drilling one of the older barrels. “So you are a man of the world?”

“Indeed I am. I have travelled far and wide.”

She sighed as she began hoisting up the second barrel. “I so long to see the outside world. What is it like?”

He told her what it was like. “Mostly fine but with the occasional hate crime.”

The dragon greeted the extra rations with loud approval, and seemed to enjoy the contents.

“And now what do we do?” she wondered.

“Eh, I hadn't really thought about that,” he admitted. “I guess we wait for the alcohol to take effect first?”

She nodded.

“Perhaps I could interest my Lady in perusing some high-quality merchandise in the meantime?” he modestly proposed.

“I told you, I have no use for frivolous fripperies.”

“But I have more than frilly frivolities, surely you must have need of some needle and thread, perhaps a sturdy new thimble?”

“All right, I shall have a look, but I promise you nothing,” she conceded.

They made their way up to the castle's magnificent great hall, and the pedlar exhibited his wares by the roaring fire. She was reluctantly admiring a silk sash – that complemented her complexion perfectly, although he was hesitant to mention it, lest he appear too forward – when the dragon crashed through the exquisitely crafted hammerbeam roof, screeching loudly. He fell down to the floor and roared in pain. Then he opened his mouth and charred the high table and a couple of ornate chairs. He turned towards his Lady and sniffed her hair. She threw the sash around his beak and pulled it tight, while the pedlar plunged his scissors into the dragon's eye. He roared loudly and started thrashing wildly. She picked up a broken perfume bottle and slashed his throat with it. As blood gushed out in large quantities the dragon let out an embarrassing whimper before dropping dead to the floor.

“You did it!” the humble pedlar exclaimed. “You killed the dragon!”

She looked at the silk in her hands and smiled. “Maybe I do like the sash.”


End file.
